


Jealous Type

by JasnNCarly



Series: Jon Moxley (Dean Ambrose) & You [35]
Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Tumblr, greygirlmoxley, wwe imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 20:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19363990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasnNCarly/pseuds/JasnNCarly
Summary: Y/N and Jon have grown up together, remaining the best of friends over time. Things change when he becomes pretty committed to his high school girlfriend, making him totally blind to the love you have for him.





	Jealous Type

You hate her. She’s got Jon wrapped around her little finger, and it’s never been that way before. He used to be smart and asinine; he used to be fun. Now, he hangs out more with her and  _her_ friends than he is around you; it feels like nothing could repair this space between you. So, you do what comes natural and act like it is your fault that you can’t be around. You hang out with other boys and girls who are vying for your attention, and you two become strangers.

You end up at the worst house party of all time; music is horrible, drinks don’t disguise any of the alcohol, and someone’s parents are going to be pissed at the destruction of their home. It was no coincidence that this happened to be a friend of Jon’s current clique. You linger in the background until you see Jon in the living room, his queen seated in the throne of his lap. It’s too much. Unable to take another hour in the place, you slip out the back door and make your way around to the front of the house; everywhere was too crowded. This seemed like the natural escape route, until you see your stalker.

He’s also part of Jon’s current clique, a football player to boot. He’s been trying to get you on a ‘date’ (and your notch to his belt) ever since he saw Jon with you. Just the sight of him makes you want to puke, so not your type. You try to look through him, but he blocks your way.

“I’m not in the mood to fight you, jackass, so get out of my way.”

“Well, good, I don’t want to fight either.” He looks you up and down, making note of your slightly baggy jeans and form fitting top, “I was hoping you’d be here.”

“I was just heading out.” You try to pass again, this times he presses you back by your shoulders, “Asshole! Get out of the way!”

He grabs your waist, pushing you against the fence and chuckling at your grunt, “Have I been too nice? Is that it?”

“Get off me!” You fight, pushing with everything you have, “GET OFF!”

“You can’t keep running from me, (Y/N).”

You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and you wonder if anyone hears you scream at him over their partying. Shutting your eyes tightly, you try to find an extra ounce of strength as his lips force yours into a sloppy kiss.

Then, all at once, he’s completely off you – a loud thud causing your eyes to pop open.

Jon is on top of him, throwing one fist after another until his girlfriend comes rushing up behind him, “Jon, no!”

A couple others force Jon to his feet and off your attacker, “Didn’t you hear her telling you to get the fuck off her!”

You start to catch your breath, noting the stunned look in his girlfriend’s eyes as she tries to defend her friend, “Jon, it’s okay! Nothing happened!”

Jon continues to fight his oppressors, clearly disappointed by his girl’s attempt at mediation, “Are you serious! If I hadn’t heard (Y/N), that son of a bitch would have done worse!”

Your admirer smiles, mumbling, “She would’ve liked it.”

“I’m going to kill you! You hear me?” Jon nearly jumps over those holding him back, “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

The last time Jon had been this angry, you were twelve and some boy had refused to let you play football with them. He got reprimanded so bad that you felt responsible and, as his girlfriend walked away in tears with her herd of girls, you wondered if you were about to feel the same.

Jon is kept back until it’s just the two of you; you expect him to follow his girl – fix the wrong. He doesn’t. Instead, he is immediately in front of you. Without a word, he starts to examine your appearance, straightening your shirt and smoothing your hair. Sensing you’re still shaken up, he takes off his beaten up leather jacket and drapes it around you.

You ignore all of this, throwing yourself around him and hugging his waist. When he wraps the jacket tighter around you, you choke back a sob and signal him to embrace you. His strong arms create the strongest barrier around you, and you finally feel at home – safe.

———————————————–

“You feel better?”

You offer him a weak smile, “A little.” Your night had felt like a bad dream until you walked out of your bathroom, bathed and changed. Now, with Jon lying back on your bed, it felt like a sweet memory. You sit on the available space next to his hip, unwrapping your hair. With the towel in your lap, you begin to comb through your mane, “You could head back now, you know?”

He gives you a sharp sideways glance.

You try to control your tone, frustration seeping into your words, “I’m fine. Really. And your girl didn’t seem too happy about you jumping to my defense there, killer.”

“She didn’t see his look. He wasn’t going to stop.” Jon sits up, shaking his head, “I can’t believe she’d defend him.”

“Can’t blame her. She wants to believe the best of the people around her.” You don’t want to insult her too much; you can’t be that friend to him. You two are like family, and you  _have_  to be happy that he’s happy…even if he’s dating a total bitch.

Jon ignores your attempt at comforting him, resting a hand at the crook of your and stroking your skin with his thumb, “I’m sorry I didn’t get out there sooner.”

“It’s all right. I’m an ice queen.” You narrow your eyes at his doubtful stare, “I would’ve froze him out, no problem.”

“I had a feeling.” He seems mad at himself, retracts his hand, “The way he looked at you…I should’ve known he’d try—”

“Hey, I’m okay.” You flick your comb at him, laughing when he exaggerates the wipe necessary to remove the water from his face. When he pinches your thigh, you groan and wait for his chuckle to fade out before speaking again, “…I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“I got scared tonight…really scared.” You know the tears have glossed your eyes, but you somehow hope he seems your small smile in spite of them, “I should’ve known you’d always be there. You’d never let anything happen to me. You never have.”

Jon gives a slow nod, his jaw tight as he considers your words.

His silence gives you the chance to put your comb away and toss your towel on the floor. You feel comfortable leaning against your dresser, more than if you were still sitting next to him. You put a hand through your fresh hair, messing up the orderly appearance. After a moment, you cross your arms, “I’ll lock up the house tight. My mom has an overnight shift so she won’t be back until the morning. No one’s gonna bother me tonight, okay? Stop worrying.”

He speaks as though he hasn’t heard a word you’ve said, “I feel like we haven’t talked in months.”

You answer immediately, “We barely have.”

“But—you’re probably the most important person in my life.”

Jon’s confession robs you of any witty comebacks; you can only stand with an awkward laugh.

“I’m sorry if you thought different.” Jon’s eyes finally find yours, the blue so clear you felt like you were staring into Caribbean waters, “I’m sorry for getting caught up in everything else.”

You shrug, “You’re in love.”

“I’m in something.” Jon extends a hand to you, waiting for you to sit next to him again and your fingers interlace with his, “But you’re the one who knows me. Who doesn’t judge me.”

Who loves you! You add it mentally, too unsure to say it aloud. Instead, you rest your head on his shoulder, assuring him, “I’m not going anywhere, Jon.”

“Thanks, (Y/N).”

He seals his appreciation with a kiss to your forehead; you tilt your head, smiling at his gesture, and nearly faint when he follows it up with a kiss to your lips. What the hell was that? You’re not sure it matters because the sweetness of his lips erases every harsh earlier assault in the night.

You kiss him back but make no other gesture to him, until he pulls away with a look of shame as though he’s hurt you. Your hands capture his face and bring him in for a deeper kiss, needing him to understand that he’s the only one in the world that you could possibly trust – the only touch in the world you longed for nearly every minute you were conscious.

His touch makes you warm, so warm that you nearly avoid embarrassment; however, tricky clothing and bumped foreheads cause the two of you to laugh into clumsy kisses. It feels so frighteningly natural that you can’t believe you’ve nearly graduated without having this experience with him. When the two of you tiptoe the line that you can’t uncross, you wonder if the condom he pulls out was intended for his girlfriend. A part of you knows it was, but you can’t help but let your ego swell at the idea of him with you right now.

“Are we…” He’s at the precipice, but he looks down at you as though you’ve just begun.

“Do you not want to…”

“I was just thinking about you and…”

“I want you, Jon.” Your words cause his lusty stare to soften, especially as you admit, “Always have.”

“If I would’ve known…”

Jon trails off, joining your lips again and pushing into you; the combination of his words – the promise lingering behind them – and the feeling of your connection causes you to cling to him, limbs twining around him like vines that had been growing there all along.

You had no idea what school would be like on Monday, all the proverbial shit would hit the fan. It didn’t matter though as you finally give into the emotions that had kept you Jon’s sidekick for years; he was always meant to be yours.


End file.
